


'til death do we part

by Awesome Timtams (Choco_Latte_Timtams), i put the late in chocolate (Choco_Latte_Timtams)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Slow Burn, Soulmates AU, fate betrayal au, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11673471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Choco_Latte_Timtams/pseuds/Awesome%20Timtams, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Choco_Latte_Timtams/pseuds/i%20put%20the%20late%20in%20chocolate
Summary: Unsolved murders have been happening in Gravity Falls for as long as anyone can remember. Every generation, a teenager's body would be found washed up on the banks of the river, or buried hastily in a ditch somewhere. It's a strange coincidence that Dipper finds himself back in Gravity Falls just before his eighteenth birthday. Still, the next target can't possibly be him - right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [our dearest friend leying (you know who you are)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=our+dearest+friend+leying+%28you+know+who+you+are%29).



> Hello - this work is based on the fate betrayal au created by pokespec (original post: https://gravity-falls-aus.tumblr.com/post/123864340509/the-fate-betrayal-au-a-summary) with a few additional elements to it. Enjoy :)  
> [this chapter is more of a prologue than anything else - but it felt awkward when the first two chapters were put together so]

_Murder in Town! 16-Year-Old Found Mutilated After Being Shot in the Head!_

_John Doe was found dead in a ditch early last night. Police reports are still awaiting autopsy results_

_Jason Oaks, 17, was found dead in an alleyway with a bullet hole in his head. Police are still attempting to find the murderer._

 

Stanford Pines browsed through the newspaper clippings pinned across his corkboard. Jason Oaks - a nondescript boy of seventeen years. Brown eyes. Blond hair. What was the connection? A bullet through the head? No found culprit? Every single case that Ford had been tracking - Every. Single. One. Had been put ‘on hold’. Until further evidence comes in or some other miracle happens. At this point, he wasn’t sure whether ‘on hold’ meant ‘we can’t solve this right now, we’ve got easier stuff to do anyway’ or ‘this case is impossible to crack’ anymore.

He had doubted the police (seriously - one of them _probably couldn’t read_ ), but now, he wasn’t sure if he could trust himself either. Ford looked to his journal. He’d started keeping one to document his thoughts a while ago. Most of the pages still remained unused. And that’s when the thought hits him again.

It’d been a decade since he’d last seen his brother. Since his brother had betrayed him, since he’d abandoned his brother to research the anomaly that was Gravity Falls.

He ran a hand through his already untameable hair. The thought of Stanley Pines still hurt a little, the lingering sense of betrayal clinging to him. He could still remember that day, how his brother had broken his only hope of getting into his dream university. And how their father had kicked Stanley straight out afterwards, Ford not doing a single thing to stop him and instead, silently watching the scene from his room upstairs.

Maybe everyone was right. Maybe he was the crazy one.

He rummaged through his files wistfully, one six-fingered hand brushing past a ‘MISSING’ flyer. Probably written by a family member. Maybe it was even a friend of the poor soul who had disappeared. Definitely sometime before someone discovered this child’s carcass lying around, carelessly tossed, somewhere in Gravity Falls, never meant to be discovered until it had long stopped breathing.

It was always Gravity Falls - in fact, the cases were practically the only gossip in the small town (that, and the supernatural - but people tend to _forget_ ) 

The victim was always a teen. Each case happened roughly thirty years after the previous - just enough time for the townspeople to settle down again, just enough time for everyone’s memories to get a bit hazy. Just enough time to make people think that it’s not the same killer.

But Ford thought otherwise.

There was a way to stay alive. Forever. To be immortal unless someone chopped your head clean off or stopped your heart. To be ageless. And the worst (or best) part of it all - _anyone could do it_. All you had to do was kill your soulmate. The one-piece to fill in your missing puzzle. The one fate has chosen to be yours. The one destined to be with you forever. That soulmate.

(That, or some kind of witchcraft.)

But every generation, the soulmate would come back - reincarnated. It was nature’s way of correcting a mistake - an error in the system that otherwise ran faultless. Kill your soulmate before eighteen and you’ll stop aging. Heck, kill your soulmate any age and you’ll stop aging. Unless you both reach 80. Then both of you die. The recurring teenage murders meant that the serial killer probably wasn’t too old - late teens, early twenties, even.

It was up to Ford to find the next reincarnation, and get him the hell away from that serial killer. Problem is, he’s got no leads on either. If only he could just find the _connection…_

A rushed tap on the doorframe.

He hadn’t been aware that his apprentice had been standing in the doorway. She cleared her throat and pointed to her watch. Ford shrugged. He didn’t need a clock to tell him that he was tired.

She cast a dismissive glance at the stacks of paper littered all over the desk and floor.

An arched eyebrow, raised in question, asking if he had any luck with his most recent case, and shrug in reply. Kristen sighed, placed a file down at the desk, and turned to walk away. Her hair flicked past her shoulder, revealing a small constellation Ford had never noticed.

“Is that a tattoo?”

“Nah,” Kristen replied, brushing her hair to cover it again. “It’s just a birthmark.”

And the footsteps gradually disappeared.

It was going to be her 18th birthday soon.

Ford made a note to buy her a present sometime that week.

It was only a little while later when he did find himself taking a quick glance at the time. Upon realising that he had stayed up for more than a day, he decided to end the newest chapter in his journal. The thirtieth anniversary of the last murder was nigh - he really didn’t have the time to rest.

Despite that, he found himself nodding off as he forced himself to put pen to paper once more.

It was still dark outside when a knock came at the door. And Ford found himself wandering to it in the delirity of sleep deprivation. A turn of the handle. A tug of the latch. A twist of the key. The creaking of a door.

And realised that opposite him stood a man who appeared to be in his early twenties, but gave off an air around him that felt stale, untouched, as if it had preserved since the dawn of the last century.

“Name’s Bill Cipher,” the man greeted, his voice oddly resonant. He extended a gloved hand. “Wanna hear the exact time and date of your death?”

 


	2. Chapter 1.5

The stench of blood flooded the air as soon as the door creaked open. Stanley Pines stared, wide-eyed, at his twin brother from the doorway. His grip on Ford’s letter loosened, and he let it float to the ground.

Yet standing before him was his twin, weariness having taken away his youth. The smart kid. Sixer. The other mystery twin. His old best friend. The sibling who had abandoned him for ten years without explanation, and never sent a letter until that day. And Stan drove for hours, hoping that maybe Ford wanted to see him again, after all those years. But he realised then that he could no longer see the boy who once wanted to sail the world with him in the middle-aged man who had started to pace towards him.

“Stanley, did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?”

Ford breathed heavily, bruises and fresh cuts strewn across his features.

“Eh, hello to you, too, pa-” Stan felt his eyebrows rise above his hairline.

“Don’t talk. Someone might be listening.”

Ford scanned the surroundings, his eyes darting around in paranoia, before dragging Stan inside by the hood of his jacket. He slammed the door behind the two of them.

Stan looked around the place, incredulity rising as he realised the state the house was in. It was completely and utterly trashed - for Heaven’s sake, there was a _knife_ sticking out of the peeling wallpaper. What he could assume was a coffee table had had its legs broken off, chips of pine wood surrounding the destroyed table. The lights were flickering, sparking occasionally, and was that...a body next to the fridge?

“You...gonna explain what's going on here?”

Stan could feel the worry rising as his twin started pacing around, tugging at his hair. He saw Ford throw a couple glances at the dead girl lying on the floor, where she lay with her throat slit and wide eyes vacant. Who was she anyway? And why was she...dead? Ford couldn’t have killed her. He knew his brother, and Ford wasn’t the type of person to murder a girl on a whim - but then, was anyone? Still, he hadn’t seen his twin for more than a decade. He almost didn’t recognise the man in front of him. He’d changed. He didn’t have the audacity to think of what Ford was capable of now.

Ford came to a stop, turning to look at Stan dead in the eye.

“Listen, there isn't much time. I've made huge mistakes and I don't know who I can trust anymore.”

“Hey, easy there. Let's talk through this, ok?” Stan tried hesitantly. He placed a hand on Ford’s shoulder, only to be swatted away.

“No, you don't understand! There's a murderer out there, and if you don't get out _right now_ , he's going to kill you too.”

Ford took something out of his coat and shoved it into Stan’s hands.

It was a large and heavy object, the force so sudden that he nearly dropped it. Catching at the last moment, he takes a look at the darned thing. It’s a book. A journal. He felt the urge to crack a joke about diaries, and how maybe Ford was a bit too old for them, but decided against it. He looks at his brother, then to the book again. The corners were carefully gilded, and in the centre was a six-fingered hand emblazoned on. Sixer’s hand. His brother’s hand. Written neatly on it is the number _1_.

“If you knew it was this dangerous, then why the heck did you even bother asking me to-”

“Remember our plans to sail across the world?” Ford cut him off.

Stan’s eyes lit up.

“Yea-”

“Well, take that journal and _sail as far away from here as possible_.” Ford began shoving him back outside.

Stan dug his feet into the floor.

“No. I'm not leaving you here. We're going to sit down and you'll tell me what's happening.”

Ford’s face flies through a series of emotions. _Annoyance, frustration, stubbornness, sadness..._ **_fear._ ** It finally settles on something that seems exasperated. There’s a certain intensity in his eyes when Ford meets Stan’s eyes again. Although they’d made eye contact plenty throughout the evening, this was the first time that Ford seemed to see Stan, to _truly_ see Stan. And just like that, the irritation leaves Ford’s face, leaving only desperation.

“Stan, _there isn’t time_.”

“Didn’t I make myself clear? _I’m not leaving you here._ I’m not letting you make me leave. Not again.”

“I'm giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life and you won't even listen.”

Stan felt himself freeze at the words, jaw clenched. His grip on the journal tightened. All of a sudden, he felt himself thrown backwards through time - through countless prisons, failures, and the prank that cost his twin brother’s college dreams. He searched Ford’s face, looking for maybe even the tiniest bit of regret or sorrow at the words.

But there was only silence.

His other hand was resting inside his jacket pocket, where he could feel the cold metal of a lighter. Slowly, he brought out his fist, lighter clenched in his hand. He flicked the cap and a flame started to burn, dancing its way through the air and casting shadows onto his brother’s paling face.

“Well, listen to this. You want me to get rid of the book? Fine. I’ll get rid of it now.”

“My research!” Stan felt the weightlessness of being pushed into the air, before his back hit the floor hard, journal and lighter flying through the air and landing several feet behind him. Ford scrambled to get there first, only to have Stanley trip him over.

He could hear the faint sound of police sirens outside. Did they find out about the pug dealing?

“You want it back? You’re going to have try harder than that!”

Stan leapt forward, catching onto a corner of the journal. He pulled, causing Ford to stumble into him as they both crashed to the floor again. Standing up, he tried to kick Ford, who dodged in time.

“You left me behind, you jerk! It was supposed to be us forever. You ruined my life!”

“You ruined your own life!” Ford retaliated with a kick of his own. Stan, not expecting it, caught it with his gut as he hit the wall. A painful burning sensation spread from his shoulder over his body, and Stan screamed as he felt himself collapse to the floor behind the broken table, grasping at the injury.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! Are you oka-” Stan felt himself dive forward, despite the pain, catching Ford’s leg and sending him falling over the other side of the table.

“Some brother _you_ turned out to be.” Stan spat. “You care more about your dumb mysteries than your family?” Before he could continue his tirade, Ford stopped him. He hadn’t moved from his position from the floor. In fact, neither of them had. They were too tired, too exhausted to continue fighting physically. The journal lay right next to Stan’s hands, although he made no move to grab at them.

“ _Listen_ , Stanley Pines.” Ford’s voice felt more rushed than ever. “This is the last journal I have. The other two have been hidden away in places where no-one will ever find them. Please. Just listen to me this once. Inside this journal are years of research - I can’t just throw them away or burn them. You have to-”

Stan hadn’t noticed the sound of the sirens getting closer as his brother spoke, nor the hurried footsteps outside the door.

What he did notice was the police officers rushing in after the door broke open, holding down Ford as he began to struggle and protest. All while Stan hid behind the coffee table.

He watched with bleary eyes as Ford was dragged, kicking, out of the door. He found that he wasn’t able to will his legs to move as he watched the scene unfold. He would never forget the sound of the voice that echoed through the loudspeaker as Ford was ushered into the cop car.

“Stanford Pines, you are hereby arrested for the murder of Kristen Woods."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actual main characters to appear next chapter


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dipper is kicked out of his room, finds the Journal and meets the new guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello kiddos!  
> guess what?? we're back!  
> (didya miss us? admit it - you missed us)  
> also, guess what astrological event is happening in the next couple hours!! (the solar eclipse!! so for those of you who can actually watch it, please do. and then tell us how it is. cus it's not visible from our country)  
> k enjoy :))

There was a soft thump on the floorboards, followed by a more ominous creak, and an even more sinister _crash_ of the ceiling coming down in the floor below. Waddles, who Mabel had tried to persuade to stay with her in the attic, rolled back onto his stomach and trotted away. Meanwhile, upstairs, the argument continued.

“Dipper, _please_ , you’re like a strand of noodle.” Mabel started again. “Waddles’ll fit on your bed _just fine_.”

“I’m _not_ like a strand of noodle!” Dipper stood indignantly, straightening up. Mabel raised an eyebrow, strode over to where he stood, grabbed his arm, and flung it into the air. _Exactly_ like a strand of noodle. Dipper snatched his arm back, crossing them over his chest. He let out a small laugh.

“Alright, you have a point. But did you see what he did to the floor?” Dipper gestured. pointedly at the pig-shaped hole in the wood between the two beds. “I’m _not_ sharing the bed with Waddles. Besides, why can’t _you_ share the bed with him?”

“ _Because_ ,” Mabel reasoned, “Waddles clearly likes it better on your bed.”

And, true to Mabel’s word, there was Waddles. On what used to be Dipper’s bed. The twins stared in awe as Waddles rolled onto his stomach and turned to face Dipper. He didn’t know that pigs could look smug, but if they could, Waddles was pulling it off _brilliantly_.

“Can’t _we_ switch beds then?”

“But I’ve already set up all my stuff!” Mabel gestured wildly to where her bedsheets were tossed onto the mattress, an open suitcase on top. Clothes and other (some of which, questionable) objects were strewn across the floor surrounding the bed. Only her backpack was untouched.

Dipper glared. Somewhere in her eyes he saw the same tenacity from six years ago.

Mabel stared back at him and flopped onto her bed. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Whatever.” Dipper decided to leave her to it. “I’m going to find another room.”

He was about to grab his suitcase when he looked back at Mabel. There was a small pause as she scrambled to find a response. Maybe a ‘no, Dipper, you know I’m only kidding’ or a ‘fine, we’ll switch’. Anything, really - Dipper was sure that the argument would be resolved soon, but the air of discomfort lingered.

“Fine.” was all that came out of Mabel’s mouth, and soon, they settled into an awkward silence.

The sound of Dipper re-packing his suitcase remained.

He looked back as he reached the door, but only found Mabel unmoved from her perch on the bed. She wasn’t looking at him. He decided to do the same, and walked out of the room without another word. At the click of the door shutting behind him, Mabel looked back to his bed, now empty. Waddles had run off somewhere in the midst of their argument. She found herself deep in thought (for the first time in a while), and closed her mouth before any more words could make their way out.

She decided to look outside the window, where she could just barely make out a figure in the woods.

“It’s been nearly thirty years.” She mumbled.

***

Dipper soon settled into a room Soos found conveniently on the same day, and unpacked his suitcase for the second time. He hadn’t bothered telling Grunkle Stan yet, seeing as he was busy entertaining some simple-mind tourists who actually believed the place was anything close to an attraction.

It had been a long time since he had an argument with Mabel that ended this badly.

Dipper put the last of his things inside the drawer next to the couch and surveyed the room.

The couch had a thin blanket resting on top, likely to provide comfort rather than warmth. It was the middle of summer, after all. The evening light leaked in from the boarded-up window, illuminating a stream of dust which landed on a fuzzy blue carpet. A drawer sat on the opposite side of the door, an old fashioned clock and a rainbow pyramid on top.  

“What do you think?” He turned around, opening his mouth to say more, but realised that his eyes only met the peeling wallpaper. Dipper deflated a little.

“Right. I’m in this room. Alone.”

He heard a thump from upstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps. The empty room only amplified his solitude.

Dipper moved back towards the dresser to examine the small pyramid. He recalled a similar one he used to have as a child, until Mabel got hold of it and decided that the best use for a rainbow pyramid was to physically _paint_ a rainbow on it.

He’d almost made to the other side of the room when his foot caught onto the edge of the carpet, sending him stumbling forward and crashing straight into the wall. He threw his hand out to try catch himself, only to have it slam into one of the boards on the wall (judging by the non-existent resistance of the wall against his arm, he could tell that Mabel was right about the whole noodle arms business). Sliding onto the floor, he groaned, clutching his wrist. 

He nearly tumbled backwards when the wall suddenly gave way.

“Seriously?”

He coughed at the onslaught of dust in his face. Eyes watering, he stared at the open hole that had appeared in the wall as the dust settled around him.

A book sat there, covered in dirt. It teetered on the edge of the shelf, a short distance away from just tumbling over. It looked as if it had been shoved in there by someone who in a rush, was desperate for it to be hidden.

_Just what was inside?_

Dipper stood up, massaging his wrist, before reaching out and picking up the book, wiping the dirt off the cover with his shirt.

It was old, that much was obvious. The cover was broken and peeling in places, pages torn from inside the book and sticking out. He traced the _3_ on the cover warily, before carefully opening the cover of the book. It was as if he’d seen it before, but he couldn’t recall where, or _how_. The pages were stained, old, dirty, and half of the first page had been ripped off. And unfortunately, it seemed to be the half containing the author’s name.

“That’s convenient,” he muttered under his breath, before flipping to the middle of the journal.

A wheel had been hand drawn took up half of the right side of the page. And on the left, words had been drawn in a hurried scrawl. They seemed to be the rambling of a paranoid mad man, trailing off with large, messy scribbles.

“Trust no one.” Dipper jumped a little, before realising he was the one who had spoken aloud. His heartbeat thumping erratically, he took the pages in his hand and hurriedly flipped to another page.

A picture of a...thing...stared back at him. Large eyes, large nose, buck-toothed and a pointy hat. _Gnomes_ was scrawled across the head of the page. The words underneath were written by a careful hand.  
  
What was this?  
  
Some kind of fantasy novel?

He began to read aloud to himself.

 _“I encountered my first gnome when I awoke one morning and found it arguing politics with the stuffed bear head above my fireplace.”_ Confused, he skimmed the rest of the page. _“Several tried to kidnap me as an…’offering to the queen’...as I was sleeping, but I just drop kicked them out the window when I awoke._ Good to know.” Dipper quickly flipped through the other pages, catching several words that popped out. “The gremloblin, truth-telling teeth, _zombies._ What the hell?”

Something told him that this wasn’t a fantasy novel. Far from it, really. But there wasn’t any possible way that this was real.

After all, six years ago, he and Mabel had come to the exact same town to spend one uneventful summer (save for the near-arrests of their great uncle for counterfeiting, shoplifting, and other, more questionable, things).

Yet somewhere, he could feel unease setting into the pit of his stomach. Memories resurfacing from their last summer in Gravity Falls.

_The trees whispering to him, drawing him deeper inside the woods. Hushed voices, the feeling of being watched. And yet, nobody was there when he turned to look around. Small caves, mystical in appearance, filled with bright gems that his twelve-year-old self was too scared to touch. Shadows of a weird, bear-human hybrid cast against the cliff walls, small, abnormal creatures rustling in the bushes, always just out of sight._

_Could it be?_

Before he had a chance to read more thoroughly, footsteps echoed outside his door, before they stopped. A hesitant knock rang across the room. Dipper quickly shut the journal and across the room.

He opened the door to find Mabel staring right back at him, visible guilt written across her face.

“Hey, Mabel.” He started off cautiously, confused as to what she was doing here. Waddles wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

She eyed the interior of the room curiously. Somewhere in her expression, there was twelve-year-old Mabel again - which, to be fair, was exactly the same as now-Mabel, but lacking one quality lost over that last summer they spent in Gravity Falls.

Trust.

“Want to come in?” Dipper said finally.

Mabel nodded, and stepped in as Dipper moved out of the way. He shut the door behind both of them.

“I’m sorry about earlier, Dipper.” Mabel had turned her eyes to the floor, and started to shuffle her feet against the carpet. “I’ve just been...nervous lately, yanno?” She laughed, but there’s no humour behind it. She sounded almost...sad.

“It’s just that… We’re going to turn 18 soon…” Mabel shifted her gaze uncomfortably. “I don’t know, bro-bro. Maybe we’re not gonna find our soulmates at the same time.”

There was a small pause.

“Maybe we won’t be the same age anymore. Maybe we’ll never get to celebrate our birthdays together ever again.” Her voice stiffened. “And we won’t even be able to tell until we-”

 _...die at the ripe old age of 80, just like everyone else._ Dipper finished silently.

“It’ll be fine, Mabel - what if we meet our soulmates at the same time? Or we can keep being mystery twins together instead of this soulmate business.” He tried.

“Dipper,” Mabel’s voice lowered. “You can’t go an entire lifetime without meeting your soulmate - you can feel their presence. It’s just-” She stopped herself suddenly. “That’s what I read in last week’s _Post-preteen Weekly_ , anyway.”

Dipper laughed a bit. It sounded more laboured than genuine, but the uncertainty seemed to fade away.

“Anyway, Mabel, look what I found just then.” He took the journal out of his vest. “I think my twelve-year-old self was right! This town is full of mysteries. Man, if only I’d found this six years ago…”

“Whoa, bro-bro, that looks _so cool_. What does it say? Lemme see!” Mabel snatched the book and began to flip through the pages. Her expression was blank as she read through it.

“...It’s pretty boring.” She decided eventually, closing it. She held it out for Dipper to take. Dipper shrugged. Each to their own. That just meant that he could keep it for himself without worry of his sister borrowing it on a whim.

Mabel quickly took her hand back, still clutching the journal before he could get a grip on it. “But can I just borrow it for the night? Please?”

 _Spoke too soon, I guess._ Dipper looked at the journal, then at Mabel. _Trust no-one_ , it had read.

It was his sister though. His twin sister, who had mostly stuck through with him his entire life. He could trust her. _Right?_  He hesitantly nodded, and his sister grinned, braces-free teeth shining. For some inexplicable reason, he felt a shiver crawl down his spine.

“Thanks, bro-bro!” Mabel cheered. “Just by the way, Dipdop - you should start sleeping soon, or you might miss the solar eclipse tomorrow. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! And you’ve only got one lifetime! Besides, Grunkle Stan will probably have us man the ticket counters for his biggest group of gullible tourists yet.”

“Already way ahead of you, sis.”

Mabel grinned at him again, before turning around to skip out of the room. She paused at the door, turning around to face him again. “By the way, bro-bro, I’m sorry...if you want your bed back, I can get Waddles to sleep somewhere else.”

Dipper looked around the room that he’d claimed as his own a mere hour ago.

“I think I might stay here for now. I found the journal in here, so who knows what else is buried somewhere?” He looked around the room. The possibilities for more secrets was endless. He was too busy to notice Mabel’s look of hesitation and nerves. Something akin to worry flickered across her eyes for a moment before fleeting away.

“Alright then,” she smiled at Dipper. “Goodnight, Dippin' Dots. Sleep well. Boop.” She flapped her arms before slowly moonwalking out the door, shutting it behind her. In front of her. Whatever.

He moved back towards the couch, where he felt himself collapse onto it. Mabel hadn’t been wrong. Grunkle Stan probably would push them to work harder tomorrow, despite only having arrived today. He was exhausted, anyway.

The moment his head hit his the pillow, the light in his brain switched off and he was dead to the world.

 

***

It was morning, and Dipper had woken up early just for this. The solar eclipse. A full solar eclipse - one that could be seen from coast to coast. This hadn’t happened since _1918._ To say that he was excited was an understatement. 

He’d dragged his sister out of her bed when she’d woken up too.

“Look, Dipper, I’m a morning person, but this is _early,_ even for me.” Mabel had groaned, following Dipper out of her room. She then perked up again. “But luckily for us, I can make us a shot of my world-famous Mabel Jui-”

 _Grunkle Stan was right - it_ was _as if coffee and nightmares had a baby._

“Oh no. No no no. I’m not drinking that again. I already have a coffee pot running, so we won’t be needing any of your...creation,” Mabel pouted at Dipper. “I also made us breakfast.” Mabel was out of the room so fast she seemed to break Newton’s three laws of motion.

He sighed. “Save some for me.”

“No promises!”

He grumbled as he walked down the stairs and entered the kitchen, to find Mabel inhaling her food off her now-nearly empty plate. A plate sat next to hers, filled with his share of the meal. _Although_ , he remarked silently as he sat in front of it, _it looks...significantly less full than what I remember._

 

He looked towards Mabel, who grinned at him with false-innocence in return. She was eating her last piece of turkey off the plate. Their family had gone bacon-free ever since Mabel had won Waddles at the fair. And none of them dared to try to go against her. Not again. The consequences had left him unable to sleep soundly for a solid month. He was pretty sure he still occasionally coughed up glitter, although Mabel would deny it ever happening.

Dipper finished his breakfast quicker than Mabel had, which was no small feat in itself, and soon he was dragging her out the door with him.

 

***

The solar eclipse had begun.

Dipper was practically vibrating from his spot on the porch as he watched it happen.

“This is amazing,” Mabel whispered in awe as she looked through her shades. She waved a hand in front of her face. “It feels like it’s night again.” She paused. “Does that mean I get to have breakfast again?”

Dipper nodded his head enthusiastically, half-ignoring Mabel’s conversation.

It was a fantastic sight, and it was lucky that they had an amazing view of it from here. The crowd of tourists who had come to watch were on the other side of the house, far away enough that they couldn’t really be heard.

All was fine.

 The moon had obscured most of the sun before he felt _it_ . Something, nudging at him, pushing him into the woods. A whisper that echoed around him. A tug of his shirt anyone else could have mistaken for the wind. And Dipper jumped up, startled. _Really? Not even_ one _day of just peace and quiet?_

“Bro-bro? You OK?” Mabel looked at him, concerned.

“You heard that, right? Please tell me you heard that.”

“Heard what?”

Dipper hesitated.

“...Nothing.”

“Dipper. Heard _what?”_

“It’s nothing, Mabel. Probably just my imagination.” He trailed off just as the echo of the whispers came back, a light breeze knocking into his arm. Alright - no, this wasn’t his imagination. This was something.

Mabel had stood up too, although it was getting harder to see her. The sun had almost been blocked out completely, leaving the smallest sliver of light that glowed brilliantly through the sky.

“Hey, look, Mabel. I’ll be back really soon, alright? I just need to go check something.” Dipper moved towards the woods, legs on autopilot. The pull on him was getting stronger now, almost impossible to ignore. He felt an urge to drop everything and run, as if an invisible string around him that had been connected to something else had been tightened, pulling him closer and closer towards the other end.

Mabel herself seemed to be conflicted, as if she didn’t know what direction she wanted to go. She was leaning towards Dipper, trying to pull him back, but her body itself seemed to be forcing her the opposite direction. She was looking worried, if not _scared._

“It’s not safe! The woods aren’t safe!”

But before he realised it, Dipper found himself entering the forest, and the trees seemed to close in on him, blocking the path back out, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Mabel’s shouts disappeared, swallowed by darkness as the sunlight which scattered through the leaves eventually disappeared. He pushed forward despite the trees around him that scratched at his naked arms and thighs, the pain barely felt through the pounding of his heartbeat.

He stopped after a while. Maybe it’d been only a few seconds. It could have been years. He wouldn’t know. All he knew was that he had stopped before a man, whose face was mostly obscured by the darkness, although the air around him made this man feel decidedly elegant. It made Dipper shrink, just a little, in intimidation.

“Deer teeth. For you, kid!” Dipper swallowed back a scream. A chain of teeth, still warm with blood, clattered neatly into his hands. He didn’t even want to know where the man had pulled them from.

Dipper dropped the chain as if he had been burned, the necklace making a clacking sound as it hit the ground. He slowly backed away, despite his instincts to go closer.

“Um...how about no.” He tried to sound adamant, but he felt his voice crack halfway through.

“Suit yourself.” The man shrugged (Dipper couldn’t tell, but it only felt appropriate - he decided that the man wasn’t exactly sane). The sound of cloth against cloth, and a soft humming echoed around the area.

The man stepped closer, and Dipper forced himself to back away, only to find his back hitting a trunk.

_Shit. This man was going to kill him._

“Name’s Bill Cipher.”

“...I have a knife.” He wasn’t sure where the courage came from - truthfully, he only had a small pizza cutter in his back pocket. He hoped the other party wouldn’t get the chance to see through his lie.

Eyes having adjusted to the darkness, he could see the man’s face just a bit clearer. The man... _Bill._ Had one eyebrow raised, looking as if he thought Dipper incredibly dumb.

“Sureee, kid. And I’m an interdimensional dream demon who’s the cause of everybody’s nightmares.” The man continued. “Anyway, kid, I’m going to a party at the Mystery Shack - you know the place? I’ve been wandering here and there, and just recently arrived at Gravity Falls and I thought _hey, wouldn’t it be fun to party_?”

_Well, crap. What do I tell him now?_

As luck would have it, he didn’t have to say anything.

A sudden burst of light made Dipper cringe into the trunk of the tree, hands reflexively covering his eyes. The solar eclipse was over and he didn’t even get to watch most of it. _Damnit._

_At least I can get a clearer look of the guy now._

The man standing before him couldn’t possibly be older than 22. Blonde, wavy hair, and a missing eye covered by an eyepatch. Dipper lifted his gaze a little to meet his eye.

A short burst of wind blew across the clearing. Bill stared curiously at Dipper’s forehead, interest sparking in his eye. A slow, if not somewhat unsettling grin spread across his face. Alarm bells were going off in his head. He ignored them.

Bill hadn’t stopped staring. Crap. The wind must have blown his hair back. Dipper self-consciously tried to tug his fringe back over his forehead.

“Is that a birthmark or a tattoo?” Bill gestured vaguely towards his own forehead, looking at Dipper.

“Do you honestly think _anyone_ would get a tattoo of the Big Dipper on their forehead. Willingly.” Dipper retorted.

Bill shrugged. “In case you can’t tell, kid, I’m not that sane. What’s normal, anyway?”

Dipper shrugged back at him. The guy didn’t seem too bad. Once you got over the possible insanity and unsettling demeanour. From his experience, he knew first impressions weren’t always the most accurate.

Dipper heard the sound of footsteps approaching, just as somebody entered the small clearing.

“Oh. My. God.” He heard Mabel’s voice, tinted with the smallest bit of relief. “Is that-?” She stopped herself halfway. “You know what, you guys, I’ll come back at a better time. You do you, kiddos.” She winked (blinked badly?) at Dipper, and quickly backed out. “I’ll take care of the ticket stands!” And with that, she was off.

Dipper looked at Bill, only to realise that at some point during their conversation, they had ended up very close together. Or rather, he had moved forward towards Bill. Dipper leapt back a few feet, only to end up tripping and landing on his ass.

“Ow. Ow. Um. It’s been nice meeting you, Bill. I’ll see you around. Maybe. Bye!” Dipper scrambled to his feet, quickly taking off. He heard Bill make an amused snort behind him as he quickly stumbled onto the path Mabel had come and gone from. He paused in his steps.

“Just, by the way - ticket stands are on the other side - twenty dollars for entry and extra for any food or drink.” He added as an afterthought, and then he was gone.

 

***

 Bill looked at the spot where the boy had stood, moments before he ran out of the woods like it had caught on fire. “I found you quick this time, didn’t I, Pine Tree?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yes, in case you didn't read the tags, this fic will keep up with current times and we're trying update on dates with meaning.
> 
> like, oh, i don't know, a certain very special 18th bday coming up for two very beloved people? 
> 
> stay tuned ;))

**Author's Note:**

> dippy fresh-approved


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